Titania's Blossom
by izukillme
Summary: "I chose the common name to be Titania's Blossoms. Because they're the exact colour of your hair."


Mirajane breathes in the crisp, cold air and lets out a sad sigh.

_Oh, how I wish you could be here._

They're climbing some idyllic mountain in the Swiss Alps, and they've stopped for a break in a little meadow. The lush green grass spreads as far as the eye can see, dotted here and there with little yellow daisies and primroses. A few hundred metres away, Lisanna, Jellal and Erik are unpacking some sandwiches they'd had the foresight to take, and chugging down water from one of the million bottles they've brought along. They're laughing and smiling, some shared joke that Mirajane probably knows too. She feels her lips twitch upwards slightly, watching her sister be so comfortable in her own skin.

Mira steps forward, deciding to explore. It's been a while since she was up in the mountains; she should take this time to enjoy the view.

She moves quietly through the grass, enjoying the feel of the cool summer breeze and the sun on her back and the cloudless blue sky. It's a beautiful day – perfect for the hike.

When she's about five hundred metres away from Lisanna and the rest, she stops, moving to lean on a curtain of ivy resting on a rock.

Or at least, it looks like it is.

Mirajane lets out a soft squeal as she falls right through the ivy, sprawled on the grass.

A field of scarlet flowers greets her eyes.

Mira is taken aback. The breath is stolen from her mouth; her lungs are closing up; her heart is pounding a thousand times faster.

That colour is etched into her head, a colour she can never forget even if she tries. A colour that brings love and joy and pain and sorrow.

She picks herself up and stumbles forwards, sinking to her knees in the midst of the flowers. Plucks one, examines it from every direction.

_It's unlike any flower I've ever seen…_

The sepals twirl elegantly in spirals around the dark red petals, a dance of grass-green and wine-maroon. Thin, delicate reddish stamens bear yellow pollen. The three colours complement each other beautifully, bringing out the richest depths in each.

It's the most beautiful flower Mirajane's ever seen.

A memory comes to her head, looking at the crimson flower in her hand. Of silken scarlet strands cascading over her palm, bright against the dusky colour of her skin, as she twisted them together in an ornate braid.

"_My hair's not red – it's scarlet_."

Mirajane can't stop the tearful smile that comes to her face.

If this is a new flower like she suspects, she knows exactly what to name it.

Tucking the blossom behind her ear, she sets off to show the others.

The beautiful woman kneels in the wet graveyard, before a headstone, rain streaming down her brown cheeks like tears. Her hair, thick and white and loose, lies limp on her shoulders like snow, plastered to her forehead by the deluge. It would be a depressing sight –

But for the smile on her face as she places a bouquet of crimson blossoms on the stone.

"Hey," she starts, clearly talking to the headstone; or rather, the person whose resting place it marks. "It's been a little while."

She pauses for a minute, collecting herself.

"I… still miss you. It's never going to be the same. Of course, it's never going to be the same. But – but last week, we went flower-hunting in the Swiss Alps again… and I found these."

Another brief pause. She sniffles once and continues.

"I chose the common name to be Titania's Blossoms. Because they're the exact colour of your hair." Her Adam's apple bobs as she swallows and soldiers on, "It reminded me of you; but this time, I didn't hurt so much. I think I'm healing, you know?"

The rain slows, and the sun filters weakly through the thick clouds. It strikes the woman's stunningly white hair, shining off it in rainbows. She lifts her head to gaze up at the sky, which is all of a sudden clear and blue and bright, the clouds having vanished into nothing.

She smiles, looking back down at the grave.

"_Erza scarlet_. That's the scientific name. It's a new species, new genus too, and since I discovered them, I was given the privilege of naming them."

Her hands settle in her lap, and she sighs.

"I love you, Erza. And I miss you. I wish that car accident hadn't happened. But – I'm not sad anymore, that you're gone. You were always there for me, during my transition, during my surgery, during my slumps… and I wish you were here, but that doesn't mean I'm agonizing over you every second like I used to. And I think you'd be proud of me for that."

She lifts the bouquet and kisses it once, then puts it back down on the headstone.

"Farewell for now, love," she whispers, rising from her kneeling position, brushing off the wet mud on her raincoat, and walking gracefully away from the graveyard, a serene and wistful look in her eyes.

Hovering over the gravestone, the ghostly, unseen woman with the long red hair finally fades away, smiling proudly.

She isn't needed to watch over Mira anymore.


End file.
